The Turquoise Teacup
by itsavolcano
Summary: Jane and Lisbon are married, and baby makes three. The dynamic duo is living happily in a small coastal town when a young woman shows up in need of Jane's expertise. Can he and Lisbon help her? Will Jane's new family fall in jeopardy at the hands of a psychotic madman? Multi-chapter WIP. Future!fic with possible spoilers for Season 7.
1. Chapter 1

Uh, sure let's give multi-chapter story thing a second try, eh? Comments are valued and cherished. All typos and grammar snafus are my own. Thanks to Hayseed Socrates for the naming of the shop!

**Trigger warning for stalking plotline. **

**The Turquoise Teacup**

**Chapter 1**

Patrick Jane padded down the hallway of the one-level home in northern California he shared with his wife and daughter. It was an early Tuesday morning and his family was in the kitchen having breakfast. The sight warmed his heart and he took a moment to be thankful for this second chance, for the love of this strong woman. He grinned as Teresa took cautious sips from a mug of coffee while giving a bottle to Nora.

"Come here, little mouse," Jane whispered, gently lifting his daughter from his wife's arms while dropping a kiss on Lisbon's forehead. "Let's let Mama fuel up, huh?"

Nora Rose Jane had been a surprise. After a quick wedding at the courthouse, he and Lisbon had been excited to share their lives together, just the two of them. Life without an impeding threat looming over head had been wonderful. The first thing Lisbon wanted to do was travel. And after manipulating his way out of his contract with the FBI, they had done just that, deciding to initially focus along the coast of California.

"Let's aim for small and familiar," Jane had teased.

But two months into their permanent vacation, Lisbon started to feel run down, spending whole days in bed. Concerned, Jane convinced her to go in for a checkup. When the doctor revealed the news of the pregnancy, they'd gone from stunned-silent to a mixture of elation and concerned. Lisbon was worried about experiencing a high-risk pregnancy due to her age, while Jane was worried about being a father again. In the end, Nora was born healthy and happy, and had her father wrapped around her tiny finger immediately.

Knowing they needed to provide a stable environment for their daughter, Jane and Lisbon settled in the little town of Pescadero, California. It offered a quiet escape from the overwrought city life they had lived both in Sacramento and Austin. The sleepy nature of the town reminded Jane of his little village in Venezuela. It had an added bonus of being tucked between the ocean and major cities. He looked forward to exploring the surrounding area as Nora grew. At six months, she was already showing a keen curious nature and he couldn't wait to show her the world.

"What are your plans for the day?" Jane asked, setting the kettle on the stove with one hand as he balanced baby and bottle in the other.

"Nora and I are going to go shopping for some new clothes, as one of us has had an unexpected growth spurt."

"Uh… the baby?" He teased with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, the baby." She rolled her eyes and he refiled her mug. "And then I have that seminar at the Sherriff's office this afternoon."

Jane gave a soft hum of acknowledgment as he rocked Nora. Lisbon consulted at various law enforcement offices throughout the county and surrounding areas, offering seminars on leadership and criminology. As the lead CBI agent who helped uncover corruption throughout California, and then went on to work with the FBI, Teresa Lisbon was a well-respected consultant. Jane was proud she received the recognition she deserved, and that she was still able to work with law enforcement. While she'd been concerned he would go stir crazy, Jane was certain Lisbon would slowly unspool without an outlet for her passion. Or at least somewhere to escape for target-practice.

"What about you? Opening the shop today? I mean, _it is_ Tuesday. I'm sure your Tuesday crowd would be disappointed if they didn't get to… partake of the wares." Lisbon grinned.

"You're very funny, wife of mine. That caffeine has finally hit your bloodstream, I see." He raised an eyebrow and shifted to burp the baby.

"Hand her over and go get dressed." Lisbon placed her mug in the sink. "These ladies are leaving in twenty minutes and you're our ride."

"So bossy, Lisbon."

"You love it."

"Well, I think that much should be obvious." He kissed her before moving back to the bedroom to change, a deep feeling of contentment warming him from head to heart.

xXx

"Yes, Mrs. Collins, the delicate hint of rose hips make this white tea one of my personal favorites, as well." Jane offered a small smile over the tasting cup as he raised it to his lips.

The older woman and her friends tinkled with approving laughter before setting their samples down and continuing to peruse the various teas lining the walls in baskets and bins. Mrs. Collins and the other ladies were some of his best customers at The Turquoise Teacup, stopping in at least twice a week to check on new deliveries and restock old favorites. Although Lisbon teased that the biweekly visits of the blue-haired crowd were more to do with his romance novel charm than the art of tea, Jane preferred to think he was making a difference in by exposing the locales to tastes beyond the basic box of Lipton.

Over the thirteen months since he had opened the shop, business had been steady but he wasn't doing it for the money. With their combined savings, he and Lisbon were set for the rest of their lives and could provide Nora with the best possible future. He'd opened the shop for something to do while Lisbon taught law enforcement seminars. He was content with being a kept man, but Lisbon had begged him to get a hobby and since he'd already had one, he decided to turn that hobby into a little tea shop. He didn't keep regular hours, choosing the open the store around his family's schedule. The locals didn't seem to mind, since a hearty bunch still preferred the black tar they called coffee over his delicate teas.

The overall look of the shop was eccentric and quaint, like a throwback to candy stores, but instead of sweets, he shilled tea and all the necessary accoutrements. Delicate teas were kept in tins, bins, and baskets, while the heartier teas were in dispensaries along the left wall, and with a pull of a lever, emptied out into linen bags. The hardwood floors were original to the brick building and looked vibrant after a coat of wax. The dark rosewood shelves matched well with the dark counter and floor. But the countertop was his favorite addition to the store. It was thick glass filled with flecks of turquoise porcelain and sparkled when light reflected across it. The details of the countertop had been Lisbon's idea and he agreed it was a sharp addition to the shop's whimsy. Completing the effect, overstuffed chairs and ottomans sat in the corners. Jane was partial to the brown, well-worn leather club chair near the front of the shop where he frequently held Nora while Lisbon ran errands.

The little chime above the door alerted him of a new customer, but he had spotted the young woman while helping Mrs. Collins's friend Linda select the best tea of her ailing husband. She had spent five minutes lurking outside the front window, visibly debating as to whether or not she should enter the little shop. From the corner of his eye he had watched her twist the end of her long auburn ponytail in her fingers as she chewed the inside of her cheek. Clearly, something greater than a nice breakfast blend was on her mind. He'd never known tea to make anyone quite so nervous.

He wrapped Linda's purchase and escorted the ladies to the door, holding it open as they filed out. He pretended not to notice when Mrs. Collins brushed up against him, but the pat to his bum was more difficult to ignore. With a wave and a sigh, he closed the door and turned to his remaining customer.

"Good morning," Jane smiled gently as she ran a finger along a silver box of oolong. She reminded him of a skittish colt and he knew if he approached her too quickly she would run. Something was troubling her, and while they'd never met before Jane felt compelled to help. Teresa would no doubt tell him he was growing soft in his old age but he was a happy man now, content in his life, and he longed to help others find a similar peace. "What can I do for you?"

"I… I…" She shifted on her feet and looked around, again biting the inside of her cheek. "You sell tea? I mean, of course, this is a tea shop. But…" She trailed off and cast another long look around.

"Are you new to town or just passing through?" Jane tilted his head down, but she continued to avoid meeting his eye.

She studied a spot on the shelves behind the counter where Jane kept the more expensive items. Her eyes locked on a purple teapot with muted clouds adorning the sides and curling up the spout. He watched as a dark thought crossed her mind, a faint frown line creasing along her forehead. All the while, Jane remained impassive, waiting for her to find the words she was seeking. He knew a thing or two about warring emotions and stuck tongues. He also knew the power of a good cup of tea and moved to pour her a small soothing sample of the lavender chamomile.

"What's your name?"

"Hmm?" She blinked and looked away from the teapot. "Oh, uh, Au- Audrey. My name is Audrey."

"Drink this." He placed the cup in front of her and she immediately snatched it up, blowing across the tea a few times before drinking it down.

"Chamomile is more of a sipping tea, meant for relaxation. Few teas are designed to be _gulped_." She paid no mind to his attempted humor. Without a word she handed the cup back to him, a wild but hopeful look in her eye and Jane went cold. It was a look he was familiar with, one he had seen on countless faces of clients during his time as a conman. She was searching for something and believed he held the key.

"Tell me, please." She continued to press the cup in his hand but Jane remained stunned. He could see she was in emotional pain_. _"Please. I can't keep running. What do you see?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. She was so desperate for answers he couldn't give, and he wasn't willing to offer her platitudes. He wasn't that man anymore. He cherished his quiet life with Teresa at his side and Nora in his arms. But every so often, his past as a fraud would come back to remind him of the man he truly was, that once a con, always a con. Regaining his barrings, he gently placed the cup back on the saucer. "I only sell tea leaves. I don't read them."

"But I thought…" Audrey looked stricken and there was genuine panic in her wide blue eyes as she pressed her palms to the countertop. "Patrick Jane owns this tea shop. You're him, _you're_ Patrick Jane."

"Yes. Yes, I am." He placed his hand on her wrist, his fingers brushing against her thundering pulse. She was about to bolt. "I'm afraid I can't give you what you're looking for. But I _can_ offer another cuppa and an ear to bend if that would help. I know a thing or two about needing someone to talk to. And if you're in some kind of trouble, well, I know a thing or two about that, also."

She yanked her arm from his light grasp and took a wide step back, flushed with a deep red as panic overtook her.

"No, no. This was a mistake. A misunderstanding. I… I thought you were someone else." She turned and made for the door as Jane rushed out from behind the counter. Before he could reach her, she was out the door, rushing past a confused Lisbon and waking a sleeping Nora in the process. Jane ducked his head out of the store, but the woman was gone. Behind him, the baby let out a sharp wail as Lisbon soothed her, running hand in wide figure eights over her back. It did little good and Jane lifted Nora up and tucked her against his shoulder. The need to hold her was overwhelming.

"I know, my little mouse. You were perfectly content to keep on sleeping until someone came along and jostled you. I know what that's like," he murmured against her head of downy hair. "The stories I could tell you about your mother and her penchant for kicking."

"What just happened?" Lisbon motioned to the path Audrey had taken. Jane was beginning to suspect the young woman had learned how to be invisible in most situations.

"Uh, a misunderstanding." He gave a small shrug before catching her disapproving gaze. "Truly Lisbon, a misunderstanding." He took a deep breath before sitting in the leather club chair and propping his feet on a nearby table. Nora was nearly back asleep against him and he wanted to hold her for a while. He closed his eyes.

"Jane?" Lisbon wanted a better answer and he didn't keep secrets anymore, no matter how difficult or tricky the words might be.

"She wanted her tea leaves read." Jane didn't open his eyes.

"Oh." Lisbon gasped, but she wasn't too surprised. Jane's past was a poorly kept secret in a small town. The general population was aware of his past career choices and didn't seem to mind. But he had a way of charming the most distrustful crankshafts, easily turning them into a pleasant acquaintance. No doubt through hypnosis.

"Yeah, and obviously, this isn't that kind of shop."

Nora's little lip curled in a tiny yawn and Lisbon draped her blanket covered in pink bunnies over both of them before placing her hand on Jane's cheek.

"Any idea what she wanted?"

"Not a clue, but something's troubling her. Doesn't take a psychic to see _that_ far." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Whatever it is, she can't escape it, no matter how hard she tries. And by the looks of it, she's been trying pretty hard."

He sighed and looked around the empty tea shop.

"Ready for that lunch?"

"Sure," Lisbon nodded, watching her husband cautiously as he stood up from the chair with Nora still in his arms. He was putting on a cheerful front, but Lisbon knew him well enough to recognize that the exchange with the young woman had shaken him. Turning the sign on the door, Jane gave Lisbon a bright smile.

"There! Officially out to lunch." He leaned in to kiss her cheek, their baby sleeping between them. But the panicked look in the young woman's eye as she fled the tea shop replayed at the back of his mind.

xXx

Around the corner from The Turquoise Teacup, Audrey Collins cried hot, heavy tears. She had hoped Patrick Jane would have answers or could offer her a shred of guidance, _anything_ to make this nightmare stop. When the authorities in Ohio had proven to be no help, she had turned to various spiritualists, but they were just as useless. A quick Google search revealed Patrick Jane as the 'the best of the best' when it came to psychic detectives and gave his last known address as Austin, Texas. She had traveled to Texas, only to find he'd been gone for nearly two years. With more digging, she tracked him to the small town of Pescadero, California. It took her all morning to work up the nerve to enter the shop and then it had proven to be a disaster. He could help her no more than she could help herself. She was losing time, right along with her sanity.

The cheap burner phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, crying more hot tears as she read the text. No one had this number but somehow he had found it just the same.

"Six days and counting, lovey-dove." It was the usual countdown text she had received for the last four weeks, but it was the next message that sent her careening towards public hysterics. "The San Manteo area is quite beautiful this time of year. That shade of auburn doesn't do you justice." A third text came in. This time, poetry. Another standard in his repertoire. "_Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky, like a patient etherized upon a table_… Soon, lovey-dove." Again she cried out, rage and panic bubbling up and boiling over. She threw the cheap phone down and stomped it to shards, sobbing uncontrollably.

The message was clear. No matter how far she went, he would find her.

And he was closing in.

xXx

**Notes**:

Literary allusions and direct references:

_Noisy Nora_ by Rosemary Wells

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot


	2. Chapter 2

Trigger warning: stalking plot. References spoilers for season 7.

**Chapter 2**

"And then, according to Mike over there, the dang cat ran out of the truck and up a tree." Deputy Caulfield hooked a thumb over towards a firefighter standing idly by, a three pronged scratch down his left cheek. He frowned and winced, skin pulled taut. She had just wrapped up her seminar on developing secure relationships between law enforcement and the communities they served when the deputy had approached her to voice his annoyance over fetching family pets from trees. It reminded her of her days as a police chief in Washington when she would talk her officers through petty complaints. At that time, with her life in California shattered and Jane a man on the run from murder charges, a cat in a tree was a welcomed reprieve from the true corruption of the world.

Lisbon focused on the trail of an airplane as it cut through the crisp blue sky, and paid little attention to the deputy's dull story. Instead, she was thinking about the strange girl who'd fled from the tea shop that morning and the shadow that had loomed over Jane all during lunch. He'd done his best to seem jovial and light hearted, but after years of experience Lisbon knew when something affected him. A reminder of his past as a charlatan always affected him. The girl was clearly in some sort of trouble, and Lisbon said a quick prayer that she'd find comfort.

"Agent Lisbon?" She started, turning back to Caulfield. Now retired, she was no longer an agent, but 'Consultant Lisbon' didn't have the same powerful ring and they'd only called her 'Mrs. Jane' once during a fundraiser before she'd silenced them with a sharp glare. Jane had only chuckled, before taking a crisp bite into a pickle slathered with cream cheese and wrapped in cold cuts, amused once again by his pocket rocket and her way with local law enforcement. Caulfield cleared his throat. "Care to offer some guidance?"

"Well, Deputy, while I'm happy to offer insight on how to maintain relationships within the community, I'm afraid I can't offer_guidance_ on how best to retrieve an aggressive cat from a tree." Lisbon refrained from openly rolling her eyes at the middle-aged man, but barely. "It looks like Mike managed just fine."

The deputy let out a huff and for a moment, Lisbon grew weary of the small town life. On most days, she loved it. Loved her home with her husband and their daughter. The quaint shop where Jane puttered around, restocking shipments with Nora strapped to him in her cloth carrier. But there were moments, out in the field, when she was corralling the good ol' boys into behaving like actual modern era officers of the law, that Lisbon missed the big city, missed the FBI. And, surprisingly, she even missed the CBI for all of its destruction and darkness. She suspected she would always miss it, however fleeting the feeling. She was a city girl through-and-through, but her quiet home with her family more than made up for the brief bouts of nostalgia. She'd give up any city in any state to come home Patrick Jane.

Caulfield watched her, eyes narrowed. Just as he was about to open his mouth and say something no doubt chauvinistic, a calamity behind them caught their attention. Turning, she spotted Officer Miller, an otherwise mild and sweet man, dragging a young woman behind him. With her long auburn hair falling in tangles over her face, she looked feral. Despite being cuffed and surrounded by police officers, the woman struggled and judging by Miller's sharp exhale she had landed the point of her elbow against his side. Exasperated, he looked up at Deputy Caulfield and Lisbon.

"She's been like this since we found her downtown," he started, bewildered. She continued to struggle and Miller tugged her again, trying to get her to settle down. "I've got the bruises to prove it."

Lisbon approached the pair, a sense of familiarity pulling her forward.

"We got a call about a disturbance down behind the strip mall. She was making a scene, throwing things and shouting. Rebecca Anne called it in, said she'd been wailing for a good twenty minutes. We got there and she was still going at it—almost chucked that ceramic goose Becca's got outside her shop, you know, the once she dresses up all the time? Anyway, she almost chucked it through a window. Would've too, if we hadn't pulled up in time." Miller sat the woman down in a plastic chair nearby. "She's been fighting us ever since. Hasn't said a damn thing though."

Lisbon reached out to brush the matted mass of hair from her face and the woman flinched. Once the hair was from her face, Lisbon realized it was the same woman who'd rushed past her that morning, fleeing Jane's shop in a hurry. She looked up at Lisbon, fear swimming in her wide blue eyes. Fear and something else… but before Lisbon could name it, the woman looked away.

"Well, hello." Lisbon straightened and forced a smile. "We meet again."

Caulfield, who had shockingly remained silent during Miller's story, frowned. "You know her?"

"Briefly. We haven't been properly introduced." She leaned down again, extending her hand out. "I'm Teresa Lisbon. …Teresa Lisbon Jane." She added her married name for affect, ignoring Caulfied's indignant exhale, no doubt remembering that icy glare she'd served him at that fundraiser all those months ago. But she'd added it for the woman's benefit, to gauge her reaction. She truly was a Jane, now, she thought, using a gentle touch and well-placed words to evoke reactions. "We met this morning at my husband's tea shop, do you remember?"

The woman inhaled sharply and looked up. And then, in the next moment, as the woman began to cry sharp but silent tears and her face turned an alarming shade of red, Lisbon realized her talents did _not_ rival those of her husband's. Lisbon couldn't remember a time he'd actually made a suspect openly sob.

The men nearby took a collective step back from the crying woman as Lisbon pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed number two on her speed dial.

xXx

In the ten minutes it took Jane to arrive, they had brought the woman in to the front lobby of the station, uncuffing her and leading her to the worn out beige couch in the corner. Her sobs had lessened, and were now punctuated by a hiccup at odd intervals.

Lisbon paced back and forth along the high counter. Sighing with relief when Jane walked in, an awake and giddy Nora strapped to his chest, she quickly made her way across the office. Nora kicked her feet and let out a sharp squeal when she spotted her mother.

"So, our mystery woman didn't run too far, huh?" Jane glanced over to the beige couch where the woman still sat, a thick blue blanket over her shoulders.

"Miller brought her in for public disturbance, assaulting an officer, and a couple other things that I think were more to do with his bruised ego than anything else." Lisbon reached up and slipped Nora out of the carrier as Jane unhooked it from around his body. "I think there's a bigger story here than public disturbance, Jane. I think…" Lisbon trailed off, unsure what to say and Jane gave a quick nod of understanding. After an exhale, he reached into the diaper bag and pulled out a thermos.

With his eyes locked on the young woman, Lisbon watched as he shuttered a part of himself away. She'd seen that look countless times before, typically when he was gearing up to interrogate someone who had the potential to flay him open, had the potential to remind him of the unsavory things of his past. She wanted to pull him out of the station, secret her family away from these random reminders of their past lives. Hadn't she only just been nostalgic for their time with the CBI? The FBI? Now, watching her husband don his figurative armor for battle, she wanted to get him even further away from that life.

"Jane," she whispered, wanting nothing more than to reassure him in this moment. Catching his wrist, she ran her thumb in soft circles until he looked at her. "We'll be right over here. Whatever that's about, we'll be right over here. And then after, you can take us home. You can rock your baby to sleep, and then you can make love to your wife."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a faint smile and with eyes full of love and gratitude, he gave her a wink before making his way over to the couch. Lisbon watched him saunter over, his posture relaxed and fluid, and she knew her words had the desired effect. He looked less wound up and worried. She sighed. Maybe she was better at the Jane family tactics than she'd thought.

xXx

Jane exhaled a steady breath and perched on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The woman, Audrey, didn't look up. Instead, she seemed to burrow deeper into the couch, into the blanket.

"Well, what do you say we try this again, hmm, Audrey?" He held up the thermos and began to unscrew the cap, pouring a small amount into a paper cup an officer handed over. She glanced up, eyes wide and confused. "Now, remember, chamomile is soothing tea, meant to be savored and enjoyed." He spoke in soft, melodic tones, seeking to soothe with more than just hot tea.

It was clear, after both this morning's encounter and the public disturbance, that Audrey needed someone to talk to, that she was in great emotional pain. Jane knew something about emotional pain and feeling unable to share your fears. He took another breath before speaking again, reminding himself that Teresa and Nora were just over his shoulder, that tonight he would take his family home and tomorrow he would open his tea shop, and everything would continue on just as it was… Or maybe he wouldn't open the tea shop in the morning, and instead convince his wife to stay in bed for as long as the baby let them. He glanced up and the young woman trembled.

"This morning I asked if you needed an ear to bend, and that offer's still available." He took her shaking hand and wrapped her fingers around the paper cup. "Sure, I can't read tea leaves. It was always a little too old school for my taste, I always leaned towards grander theatrics. But you were right, I used to be make a pretty decent living as a psychic. None of that's real, though." He poured tea into a paper cup for himself and leaned back, posture relaxed and open.

"But I _can _read people." He took a sip. "And right now, I see a woman who is on the run. Obvious not on the run from the law, or you'd've slipped out of town without getting dragged to the clink. Hmm. From parents? No, you're, what, 23, 24? Old enough to venture out on your own. A husband? No, no rings. A boyfriend?" She flinched and he leaned in. "Audrey, you can tell me, you're safe here."

Again she flinched, then licking her lips that were cracked from crying, she struggled to find the words.

"He's not… Despite whatever he says, Teddy is not my-my boyfriend." She took a gulp of the cooled tea, rinsing the word from her mouth. Jane tapped two fingers on her wrist, a gentle reassurance.

"Then tell me, what is he?" He watched as she drew herself up, still cautious but ready to tell her story.

"He came into the office where I work—_worked_—back in Ohio. Seemed nice, polite. When you deal with scheduling appointments for a doctor all day, nice and polite are hard to come by." Jane only nodded, allowing her to continue. "But then he started showing up more frequently, for no reason. Sometimes he'd leave things at my station—flowers, candy. A note or two. Always with a line of poetry. The same poem, over and over. 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'—have you heard of it?" Again, Jane nodded.

"It's horrible." She swiped angrily at a tear.

"It's a tragic sort of story, that poem," he offered.

"Tell me about it." Her laugh was mirthless.

"Then what happened?"

"He—what do they call it? _Escalated_. Would show up at my apartment, at the grocery store. Would stop at the café I'd go to for my morning latte and pay for my drink before I'd even get there. Weird shit like that. But when I told him to back off, well, that's when things…"

"Further escalated?" Jane poured more tea into her cup.

"Exactly." She took another drink. "A couple prescription pads vanished from work, only to fall out of my purse. I didn't take them,_he _did. I lost my job. Then, I couldn't pay rent, couldn't get another job. I lost my apartment."

"And the police said it was circumstantial, right?" Jane had seen dozens of stories like Audrey's. She met his eyes, relieved to be heard.

"Right. That until he made an actual… Until he attacked me, they couldn't do anything. But what _was _he doing? I lost my job, my house… I cry all the time, I don't sleep. What else is this if it's not an _attack_?"

Jane pressed his mouth in a firm line, and looked down to his cup of tea. "And me? What brought you to my shop this morning?"

She blushed, faintly embarrassed. "The police were no use, so I started going to psychics… spiritual advisors, or whatever. I'd hope they tell me how to get rid of him, that they would see an end to all of this… this horrible mess." She hiccuped, tears filling her eyes.

"For a while, it seemed to work. This old woman told me to wear a poultice around my neck, another told me to pour salt in a circle, sit in the middle and chant. And for little over a week, I didn't hear from him. But then my aunt's cat—I'd moved in with my aunt when I got kicked out of my apartment—disappeared. I found her two days later in my bed, her neck twisted. He'd rung her neck." Audrey shivered and pulled the blanket tighter.

"I freaked out. I couldn't take it anymore. So I did a Google search and your name popped up. Some article said you were some sort of a psychic detective, that you were the best there was. And I thought, no I _knew_, you were my best bet at getting through this, at finding a way to get Teddy out of my life."

Jane drew in a breath, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

"I'm afraid that article was misleading, or, at best, poorly written."

"I know, you said you're not a psychic."

"Mmm. There's no such thing. I did, once upon a time, help the police find criminals. I'm retired now—"

"Are you saying you can't help me?" A shadow crossed her features and Jane could feel the sadness radiate through her. Before he could reassure her that he wasn't going to hang a poultice around her neck or brush offer her concerns, Deputy Caulfield entered the station. He was panting and making a beeline for Lisbon, something in his hand. It looked thick and heavy, like a brick.

Caulfield leaned over to Lisbon, his head tucked down as he whispered over a sleeping Nora. He showed her a scrap of paper, no doubt a note attached to the brick. Classic vandalism. But it was the color draining from Lisbon's face that made Jane jump up and reach her in two long strides, his hand bracing her elbow.

"Jane," she started, her green eyes large and watery, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Someone-someone threw a brick through the shop window, and—"

Before she could finish, Jane snatched the paper from Caulfield's clutch. _I am Lazarus, come from the dead/ Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all_. It was a verse from the poem Audrey had mentioned, but it wasn't the two short lines of poetry that sent panic rocketing through Jane's body. It was the small, familiar smiley face drawn in red ink punctuating the verse that nearly brought Patrick Jane to his knees.

xXx

**Note**:

Well. I always loved The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock but it wasn't until Hayseed Socrates reminded me of that line that I realized how prefect it would fit with what we know of season 7. Eep!


	3. Chapter 3

Trigger warning: stalking plot. References spoilers for season 7.

**Chapter 3**

"_I am Lazarus, come from the dead/ Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you _all."

Jane read and reread the two lines of poetry, adrenaline pounding through his system, making him practically vibrate with fear. Next to him, Lisbon shifted closer, Nora tucked tighter in her arms. He had the strong urge to pull his family out of that police station, tuck them into the SUV and leave Pescardero behind. Maybe it would be better if they returned to a larger city, the ability to disappear in a throng of people at any moment… Jane shook his head, pushing the thought from his mind. They were building a life here, a safe and secure home for Nora. He wasn't about to let some spineless no-name play games with his family. Running his thumb over the heavy indentation of the smiley face, Jane shook his head.

"It's not him, Lisbon. This isn't him." He refused to say the name, refused to let any of that darkness near their child. "He's dead and rotting."

Lisbon only nodded, her eyes full of concern. Jane read the verse again. _Lazarus, come back from the dead._

This was _not_ him. That corruption throughout California had been dismantled, shaking up the lives of those Jane had held dear right along with it. He had taken down the monster at the heart of the corruption, had squeezed the life out of him until his eyes turned icy blue, his face frozen in a death mask. He crumpled the paper in his fist.

"Jane?" Lisbon spoke softly, pulling him back to the present.

"Hmm?"

"If it's not him, then what's going on?"

"Clearly someone is trying to put me on the defensive." Jane frowned, reminded of a case long ago during their time at the CBI, when with Dr. Linus Wagner had murdered business partner and the wife of a professional golfer. Blonde and beautiful, she was murdered for misdirection, meant to mask the true crime. The magician's assistant. He ran his thumb over the words, his nail catching in the groove. _I shall tell you all. _

Abruptly, he turned and reached Audrey in a matter of seconds.

"What is this?" he leaned down, invaded her personal space and she careened back, startled. "Who put you up to this? I must say, the poetry's a nice touch. A bit more modern than I'm used to, but of course, still effective in a 'cryptic psycho' sort of way"

"Wh-what?"

"Your _boyfriend,_" he practically spat, gaging her reaction, looking for any falsehoods. She flinched at the term and he began to ease up, a bit of tension melting away. "He threw a brick through my window with this love note attached. What do you make of it?"

"It's that poem. More lines from that poem." Audrey frowned.

"And what else?" She shrugged and Jane leaned in further, an angry gleam in his eye. "What _else_ do you see?"

"A face. A smiley face. So what? He's got a grim sense of humor." Audrey looked around at the officers standing by. Some had wide confused faces, but some, like Caulfied, had been around years before and knew what the symbol meant.

"You really have no idea?" Jane studied her, still looking for some hint of deception. When he saw none he let out a heavy sigh and stood. She wasn't aware of any Red John or Blake Association connection. Still, something wasn't right about the whole situation. This man, this _Teddy_, was more manipulative and unstable than the average sociopath. She needed protection; he couldn't let the police turn her back out on the street, unguarded. And he couldn't keep an eye on her—wasn't about to bring her to his home. Whatever this was, he wanted it as far away from Lisbon and Nora as possible.

"Deputy, please let Sheriff Garson know that this woman is not fit to leave this station. I believe she had a hand in the vandalism to my property. I'd like a day or two to go over my shop before determining if I should press charges."

"Jane!" Lisbon took a sharp step toward him, stopping when Nora woke in her arms and began to cry.

"I had nothing to do with that!" Audrey bolted up, her eyes brimming with tears. "You see, this is what he does. He just… I can't get away from him." She was nearly hysterical.

Jane turned back to her and placed a gentle hand on her wrist.

"I believe you, but you need to be safe and the drunk tank in this ol' one-horse town is about as safe as it gets. After all, that's why you were causing that scene downtown, wasn't it? In the hopes of getting arrested?" She lowered her eyes but he could still see the stress in her taut posture. She was wound tight, had clearly been upset for months and the stress was taking a toll. "Audrey? Listen to me."

She leaned in, drawn in by his gentle but distant manner and by the warm, low tone of his voice.

"Tonight, when you go to sleep, I want you to have a restful sleep. Think of a warm, safe place. Think of the beach just over there, off of the horizon. The sand is warm from the sun, the ocean laps at the shore and recedes, laps at the shore and recedes. Isn't it a lovely sound? Relaxing, peaceful." She was in a light trance, docile and relaxed. He continued on. "I want you to think about that beach, about that ocean. Feel the warm sand, feel the heat of the sun on your skin. Nothing can harm you there, you're safe. Just listen to the sound of the ocean. It laps at the shore and recedes, laps at the ocean and recedes… So warm and safe." He gave her shoulder a firm, friendly squeeze, bringing her back to the present.

"What?" She blinked, wide and slow.

"Just remember what I said." He pressed his mouth into a firm line. "Rest, Audrey."

Then, turning away from her, he moved back to Lisbon.

"Officers, if you'll excuse us, it's getting late and I need to get my family home. I'm sure the young lady over there could use a hot meal and a cot." Jane pulled a blanket from the diaper bag and draped it over Nora, wanting to shield her from whatever danger lurked outside the walls—a cool evening breeze or the gaze of a madman. Lisbon met his eyes, trying to gauge his mood, and he forced a half-smile and a reassuring wink.

And then he bundled his family off into the waiting SUV before Deputy Caulfield could voice his protest regarding evidence protocol or his skepticism over the so-called suspect.

It wasn't until they'd fastened Nora in her car seat and were halfway down the road that Jane let out the breath he'd been holding since they'd left the station.

"Jane?" Lisbon spoke up. He'd heard her say his name with that inflection countless times, and the note of worry sent a pang through his chest. He drew himself up.

"Hmm? Yes, my love?" He flipped the turn signal before cutting the wheel left and onto their street.

"Do you have any idea what this is all about?"

"I think it's a game of 'wrong place, wrong time'. I think Teddy knows Audrey was at the shop this morning and just as she did a cursory Google search, so did he. Of course, he hit on _other_ news-worthy items that she missed. Hence the note." His next words were said with a lightness Lisbon didn't' believe. Instead, her stomach dropped with worry. "Unfortunately for him, he failed to do a more in depth search or he'd have discovered just what course of action I take when someone threatens my family."

He pulled into their driveway and killed the engine.

xXx

It was nearly 10 PM, but Jane was still slumped over the dining room table, notes and papers strewn about, a baby monitor at his elbow and an empty tea cup turned over on the saucer. He had managed to fill half of a notebook with notes and theories regarding Audrey, Teddy, the T. S. Eliot poem, and anything else he could think of. He even shifted through a few memories of the days he'd spent hunting for Red John, trying to find a connection. He found none based on what limited information Audrey had offered. Of course, there was a poem involved—never let it be said sociopaths didn't go for grandeur—but there wasn't a stylistic connection between Blake or Eliot.

He sighed and looked at the copy of "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" he'd printed off the computer. It was a long work, and apparently an arduous one. Eliot had begun writing it in 1910, but didn't publish it until 1915. Five long years. Jane wondered if maybe _that_ was a clue. Maybe this stalker had had Audrey in his sights long before she knew. Maybe he'd been planning this attack for months. But then why? Who was she to him? Just a convenient outlet for his game, or did she truly represent an interest? Jane groaned, his head in his hands. Searching and theorizing based solely on a handful of facts was feeling all too familiar. He'd left that life behind.

He heard Lisbon approach from down the hall. With a fluid grace, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to this shoulder.

"You, bent over a notebook full of your horrible handwriting? Déjà vu." She teased, but his heart dropped. _Déjà vu_. How he hoped not. "Come up with anything interesting?"

"Hardly. I've been reading and re-reading this dumb poem, looking for clues, but nothing."

"What about being Lazarus, rising from the dead?"

"Well, that was just his ghoulish humor, I'm nearly certain."

"Nearly certain? There's no truth to his words of resurrection?" Jane heard the hint of worry in her voice and he reached up to reassure her, his fingers running along her arms.

"It's not McAllister." He assured her, assured himself.

"OK." She pressed her lips just below his ear. "I'm not sure how I feel about you poring over notes again, writing down every thought that comes in your head. I didn't like it then, and I can't say I like it now."

"Someone threw a brick through my shop window, Teresa. A verifiable threat." He turned around so he was facing her, fury at the situation brewing in his eyes. "And if he knows where my shop is, then he can just as easily know where my home is—_our_ home. I will do whatever it takes to protect you. To protect Nora."

"I know." Lisbon kissed him and he knew she was fighting the urge to point out that she was a trained cop. It had always been her favorite retort when he demanded she let him protect her. "It's getting late, Jane. You won't solve this tonight."

He hummed in agreement and drew her closer as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Besides, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Hmm?"

"What I told you this afternoon, before you went to talk to Audrey." She leaned back, enjoying the slight perplexed look on his face as he struggled to remember. "I told you that after you talked to Audrey you were going to take your family home."

"Which I did." He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, recalling her words from earlier, but enjoying the chase.

"And that you could rock your daughter to sleep." He'd rocked Nora to sleep shortly after dinner, and had checked on her nearly every quarter hour—despite having the baby monitor at hand.

"Which I also did." He kissed the side of her mouth.

"And then, I believe I rounded that out with making love to your wife." She pulled him up to his feet her mouth on his, and he chuckled as she untucked his shirt from his pants.

"Oh, yes, how could I forget _that_."

And without another word, he scooped her into his arms and carried her down the hallway to their room.

xXx


	4. Chapter 4

See previous chapters for warnings. All typos/wayward commas are my own.

**Chapter 4**

When Lisbon woke the next morning, Jane was sitting near their bedroom window, his feet propped up on a nearby bookcase and a sleeping Nora curled up in his arms. While she was certain he had slept through the night, he still looked pretty exhausted. She saw traces of the Jane of old, the man who had secreted away in the CBI attic to pore over case files and then a notebook of names, lingering at the corners of his eyes. The fear and worry that Jane lived with, that had melted away during their time in Austin was threatening to rear back up. But he had come so far, and together they were so strong. That he was sitting in their room, holding their daughter while Lisbon slept, was proof of just how strong. He wouldn't shut her out—and even if he tried, she'd barrel down the door. No lock could keep her out.

The threat the man Audrey called Teddy presented wasn't a new sort of threat. They'd encountered a wide range of criminal psychopathy during their time with the CBI and then with the FBI. But it was different now; they had a family. Both Jane and Lisbon knew how easy it was to fall victim to chance, to the villainous hand of others. Together they would keep their family safe, they would protect Nora and their safe haven in Pescadero. She wanted to watch Nora take her first steps in this house. She wanted Nora to draw on the walls with crayons and chase after the dog they'd inevitably get her. This lovely yellow house on a quiet little street was where she would grow old with Patrick Jane.

"You're thinking awfully loud back there, wife." Jane turned his head and cast an eye over his shoulder. Lisbon squinted against the ray of sun that cut through the blinds. "Care to share?"

"Oh, you know, just wondering where my coffee is." Lisbon followed his lead and kept the mood light. "And how long you've been sitting there."

"Well, noisy Nora woke at dawn and demanded, like a true Lisbon, to be fed. And then, again like a true Lisbon, fell promptly asleep after her belly was full." Jane looked down at his arms and ran a finger along the slope of the baby's nose, stopping when she opened her mouth in a tiny yawn.

"Oh, it's a rough life, keeping the Lisbon women fed and warm," she teased and he smiled faintly before looking up at her, his eyes full of love.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"In that case, how about you hand me the baby and go turn on the coffee pot." Lisbon brushed her hair back from her face before holding her arms out, expectantly.

Jane let out a surprised bark of laughter before standing.

"You're really milking this, huh?" Amusement was breaking through his melancholy.

"I'll take any opportunity for my husband to bring me coffee in bed."

"Hmm, I thought I was only turning the pot _on_. No one said anything about bringing any coffee, anywhere." He leaned down and placed a now awake Nora in her waiting arms. Before he could stand back up, Lisbon pulled him closer into a thorough kiss. Standing, he ran his tongue along his lower lip and grinned. "Well, when you put it like that, you make a very strong argument."

"I thought you'd agree."

Jane went down the hall to the kitchen while Lisbon let Nora stretch out on the bed. After the rough day they'd had yesterday, Lisbon was content to stay in bed for the next forty-eight hours. For a moment, she wondered if she could convince Jane to let the police handle the investigation into the vandalism at the tea shop.

"We both know that's unlikely, huh, little one?" Lisbon leaned closer to Nora who in return sighed her agreement. "You're a fast learner."

Lisbon could hear Jane rummaging around the kitchen, running water and grinding fresh coffee beans. Then abruptly, she heard something shatter. Tucking the baby against her shoulder, Lisbon made her way down the hall. Finding Jane pale and standing perfectly still sent a twinge of panic down her spine. Pieces of a shattered saucer and two slices of toast, butter side down, were at his feet.

"What?" Lisbon whispered, her voice tight. Nora squirmed in her arms and she forced herself to relax her hold. His eyes never meeting hers, Jane tilted his head to the small window above the kitchen sink.

There, pinned to the window screen, was another note. More poetry.

_There will be time to murder and create,/ And time for all the works and days of hands._

This time, however, the lines of the poem were accompanied by a detailed sketch of a bird sitting atop a disembodied hand, palm turned up, fingers beginning to curl in a threatening grasp. There was something peculiar about the bird, something about the harsh lines of its eye seemed familiar. It looked like an Egyptian hieroglyph. It looked like the symbol from the Visualize center.

This was far more sinister than the half scrawled red smiley face on the previous note. Any idiot could type a few things into a search bar and make a connection. This was more personal. This took a bit more research. Or, she thought as her stomach sank, maybe it took no research at all.

Lisbon tightened her hold their daughter.

xXx

While the police came and took pictures and dusted the exterior of the window for prints, Jane disappeared into the garage, and then into their bedroom. By the time the police were packing up, he reappeared, fully buttoned up in a three-pieced suit. He stood near her elbow, flexing and unfurling his long fingers, one of his nervous tells. He made no move to take the baby from her arms. Lisbon hadn't put her down yet, and her muscles were growing stiff. Lisbon shifted on her feet, but again Jane made no move to take Nora. Instead, Lisbon placed the baby in the nearby play pen and moved to clean up the shattered saucer and toast.

"You want to talk about it?" From the corner of her eye she watched Jane. To a bystander, he no doubt seemed calm but alert. But Lisbon felt the frantic energy radiate off of him. She'd witnessed this countless times. He was retreating into himself. He had no warehouse attic to run to, but he was retreating just the same. That he hadn't taken Nora from her arms was the first clue. Wasn't it only hours ago that she'd mentally praised him? That he wouldn't shut her out again, never like that? Well, it made no difference. She wasn't going to let him slip back into old patterns.

"Hmm?" He stared at the kitchen window. The police had taken the note but Jane had an eidetic memory. He was likely remembering the angle of the note as the early morning breeze moved through the yard, the way the bird seemed poised to take flight right off of the paper, or the way the fingers seemed to twist…. What struck Lisbon most of all was the large unblinking eye, long dramatic lashes drawn out from the lids. The intent was clear. Visualize. It sent a chill through her body.

"Do you want to talk about that note?" It wasn't really a question. He turned to look at her and a chill once more moved through her body. This was feeling all too familiar and panic began to settle in. Things were different now—_they _were different now. Weren't they? They had a yellow little house with a white picket fence. They had a baby, a rooms littered with all the accessories that came with a baby. Jane had a tea shop, she had a consulting gig… They were different. They had slain the greatest beast they'd ever encountered, so why did this all feel so dangerously familiar?

Lisbon wasn't sure she could watch him turn in on himself once more. Couldn't watch him turn away from her.

Just as Nora began to fuss from her play pen, there was a knock at the front door. Jane moved to answer the door, but Lisbon stopped him, her hand pressed against his chest. He took a step back, meeting her eyes for the first time since she'd kissed him in their bed and sent him off to fetch her coffee. He looked haunted. Lisbon pressed forward.

"Watch her." Her tone left no room for argument and he gave a quick nod. Then, standing on tip toes, Lisbon looked out the small window of the thick door, the faceted glass giving the man on her front porch three faces. Falling back onto her heels she cast a glance over to Jane. He didn't look up at her. No doubt he'd guessed who was at their door. Instead he watched Nora, or rather he watched the empty space _next_ to Nora.

Lisbon turned the deadbolt and flung open the door. She wasn't necessarily _un_happy to see their guest, but she knew better than to assume it was a casual coincidence.

"Hey, boss," Kimball Cho greeted, standing on her porch with his perfect posture and ever-stoic expression. "Heard you could use some backup."

xXx


	5. Chapter 5

Uh. Yeah. I don't know.

Warnings and disclaimers from previous chapters still apply. Typos, commas... etc.

**Chapter 5**

After a dumbfounded few moments, Lisbon stepped back from the door and let Cho slip past. Then she watched in distant horror as, with a well-practiced precision, Jane slipped even further behind a mask. He smiled a wide smile and extended a hand to greet their old friend, pulling Cho in for a quick pat on the back. At their feet, Nora cried out but Jane made no move to soothe her. Instead he retreated to the kitchen to warm a bottle.

Frustration warred with anger and Lisbon quickly scooped up the fussy baby from the pin.

"She's gotten big," Cho offered. Nora tucked her head against her mother's shoulder as Lisbon continued to sway. "I take it Jane didn't tell you he called."

"Are you surprised?" Lisbon turned Nora in her arms as she continued to wriggle.

"Not really." Cho held out a finger for the baby to grasp but she quickly grew uninterested. Instead, she turned once more, searching for her father, happy once he came into view. She kicked against Lisbon and tipped forward, towards Jane who only held out the warmed bottle.

"Take her." Lisbon's voice was low but even as she held the baby out. Jane shook his head, again not meeting his wife's eyes. She remained steadfast. "_Patrick_, take your daughter and give her the bottle."

He took half a step back, the bottle beginning to slip from his hand.

"I can't." She heard the pain in his voice, the tell-tale crack as he struggled to hold his emotions in check. Then setting the bottle on the nearest surface, he retreated down the hall.

"Give her here." Cho took the baby from Lisbon's grasp with gentle ease, picked up the bottle and settled in a nearby chair.

Lisbon found Jane in their room, his back pressed against the farthest wall, hands braced on his thighs as he focused on making his breath even out.

"I'd ask if you want to talk about it," Lisbon started, "but that implies I'm giving you a choice."

Jane stood straighter. He looked in her direction, but he still wasn't really looking at _her_. She moved closer.

"What's this really about, Jane? That note? Sure, it was creepy but there was something else." She reached up to touch him, ran her fingers along his neck in an attempt to soothe. His skin was hot to the touch, no doubt from the anxiety and adrenaline, and she wondered if he'd always been like this. If she had offered a gentle touch all those years ago would his skin have felt so feverish, then, too?

He flinched away from her. "Don't."

The word cut. The tears stung but she held herself together. They weren't leaving this room until he told her what was wrong. She would barrel down all those barriers he tried to construct. They were _partners_ in every way imaginable. He'd promised…

The hurt turned to frustration, then to anger. With a force she typically reserved for tackling perps, she pinned his shoulders to the wall and moved into his line of vision.

"You _will_ tell me what this is about." She left no room for arguing. Jane took in a shuddering breath.

"_There will be time to murder and create. And for the works and days of hands_." He spoke the lines of the poem evenly and with detachment, still not looking up at her.

"That poem, right? What does it mean?" She gripped his shoulders, not caring if it hurt. It seemed he didn't either.

"In the poem? Doesn't matter. What _does_ matter is that the person who left it on our kitchen window left it with a clear intent."

Lisbon frowned, still not following. Jane looked away, curled and then unfurled his fingers. His tell. But this time, it seemed he was lost in a memory.

"Time to murder and create," he repeated, looking down at his hands, palms up as if in prayer. "I never told you, did, I? What I did all those years ago."

Dread slipped through her. Lisbon had seen the official FBI report back when she was in Washington, had read the notes from the scene and the autopsy. She had memorized the sketches of the body, had seen the drawings of the wounds. They were impersonal drawings covered in the coroner's illegible handwriting, but she didn't have to read the words to know the story. She shouldn't have been given access to the files, but a friend of a friend had pulled some strings. She'd pored over that file until she had it memorized, until she could see the entire scene behind her closed eyes as she tried to drift off to sleep. It haunted her that she hadn't been there to stop him. In the end, she hadn't cared if McAllister had lived to see a trial. The system was so corrupt, he'd have walked or escaped. She didn't care that he was dead. What she cared about was the damage it had caused Jane to take another life. And at night, when the details of the case wouldn't leave her long enough to fall asleep, she prayed Patrick Jane would find peace.

Two weeks later, the first of Jane's letters arrived and the details of the Red John file slipped further from her mind, replaced with stories of dolphins and beaches, of eggs cooked too runny and fragmented Spanish. She found it easier to sleep.

Then in a blink, he was back, and they were together but apart. Then together, then a family… All the while they'd never once discussed the event in the park on that sunny afternoon all those years ago. It'd never really crossed her mind that he'd _want_ to talk about it. Although, in retrospect, she should've known better. His typical mode of operation was to avoid and let heavy topics fester until it was nearly too late. _It makes me happy to be able to say that to you_.

The lines of poetry, the image of the menacing hand holding a bird… It all started to make sense.

"Jane," she spoke softly, curling her hand into his. This time he didn't flinch away. "You think I don't know?"

He looked up at her with watery eyes. "How can I hold our daughter with these hands? How can I hold you?"

Swallowing back a sob, she slipped closer to him, pressed her body against his. "You've been doing pretty well, up until now, Jane."

"You know what I mean, Teresa."

"All of that's in the past. It doesn't matter now. It just so happens someone is pressing on our weak spots. That's all. I happen to be pretty partial to those hands." She smiled softly. "Although you should probably talk to someone—"

"I hardly think that's wise, given my history." He practically rolled his eyes.

"Well, we'll start the therapy at home, then. How's that?" She pressed a kiss to his throat and then stepped back. "For example, Nora is most likely going to need a diaper change and Cho is going to be very unhappy if he's left to deal with it."

"Ah, I think he'd surprise you. He's a pro with babies."

"No doubt, but he's also our guest. _Your_ guest, really, since I had no idea you'd called in the cavalry."

Jane sighed and reached out to clasp Lisbon's hand. She took that as a positive sign.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to have such a _reaction_."

"We've had a lot thrown at us in the last forty-eight hours. I think a reaction was inevitable." She squeezed his fingers. "But next time, don't pull away."

"I panicked."

"I noticed."

"Yeah," he gave a half-smile. "You did."

Jane leaned forward to kiss her, but was interrupted by a knock on the doorframe.

"Your kid needs a diaper change." Cho held the baby out in front of him like he was holding an explosive that might detonate. She kicked her legs happily, and he winced.

"Hand her over," Jane pushed off from the wall and removed his suit jacket, tossing it on the bed. With one overly dramatic flourish, he scooped his daughter up and noisily kissed her cheek. The baby squealed with delight.

As Jane left to tend to Nora, Lisbon let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm really glad you're here." She pulled Cho into a tight, friendly hug.

xXx

Jane, Lisbon and Cho sat around the living room, a lunch of pepperoni pizza and soda spread out on the coffee table. Nora napped in her play pen, her father sitting nearby.

"How do you know this girl is telling the truth?" Cho washed down a mouthful of pizza with a gulp of soda.

"We don't." Lisbon was beginning to have her own doubts about Audrey's story. It all seemed too neat, too coincidental. Initially, she had been willing to accept the idea that Teddy had seen her at The Turquoise Teacup and, like any self-respecting psycho, did a quick internet search on the owner. There were entire websites built around the mythos and lore of Red John, and by extension Jane. No doubt some ghoul had access to the autopsy files and uploaded the cause-of-death to the websites—after all, Lisbon had managed to get her hands on a copy. She tried to remain detached as she remembered what she'd read so long ago. There were ligature marks from around the throat, there were pigeon feathers in the abdomen wound. But that didn't explain the Visualize symbol. Her thoughts drifted to Brett Styles… Could this be the handiwork of a devout follower, finally seeking revenge for his leader's untimely death?

"It's a hunch." Jane spoke up. "I have a _hunch_ she isn't involved. Not directly at least." Nora shifted and sighed in her sleep and he reached over to adjust her soft pink blanket.

"And because you're _you_ we should trust this hunch?" Cho offered. There was no sarcasm in his tone, just acceptance and long-standing knowledge.

"Something like that."

"No, not _something _like that. Why should we trust her?" Lisbon wasn't so quick to acquiesce. "She showed up out of nowhere and threw our lives into a tailspin. You can't tell me that's a coincidence."

"I've no doubt there is something sinister at work here, but I think she is but a pawn in it. I'm not exactly sure how or why. Not yet. But there was real fear in her eyes at the station yesterday."

"Where is she now?" From his place on the floor, Cho leaned back against the sofa, arms crossed against his chest. A stuffed toy elephant loomed over his shoulder and for a moment, Lisbon was struck by the surreal sight. My how times had changed over the last fifteen years. No longer were they discussing a case in the bullpen of the CBI, or even the conference room of the FBI office in Austin. Instead, they were spread out in her living room while Jane rested his hand on their sleeping daughter's belly.

Jane cell phone vibrated with an incoming call and he frowned before answering.

"The police station, being held on some bogus vandalism charge for her own safety," Lisbon whispered, her attention divided between answering Cho and listening to Jane's call. In under a minute, Jane was hanging up and standing.

"Uh, no, it seems she is no longer being held at the police station." Jane gently lifted Nora and placed her in her car seat. She didn't stir. "That was our friend Deputy Caulfield calling on behalf of the Sheriff's Department to let us know that Audrey Collins broke out of her cell about an hour ago. Or rather _someone_ broke her out. He was a little foggy on the details. I expect that was on purpose."

Lisbon bolted to her feet. "What do you mean _someone broke her out_?"

"Just that." Given the news, Jane was surprisingly calm as he lifted the car seat and grabbed the diaper bag. "I told the deputy we were on our way to take a look around the station. He seemed to think that wasn't necessary, but, well, that's hardly likely to stop me, is it?"

With a wide gesture, he motioned for Lisbon and Cho to follow before locking the door behind them.

xXx


End file.
